


Hungover

by GuileandGall



Series: Violaceous Fury [46]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Showers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuileandGall/pseuds/GuileandGall
Summary: Clearly Troy is not one who believes that there is such a thing as too much fun, at least not until the next morning.





	Hungover

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been working on this piece longer than I want to admit. When I transferred all my writing to Scrivener I marked the progress of those pieces at that time. It’s been in the works for about two years. Inspired by a photo:

**Hungover**

Furia leaned against the bathroom counter staring at him. She grinned like something was funny, though he didn’t know what it could possibly be. Troy just groaned and rubbed at his eyes again as the warm water beat against his skin.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“What's it look like?” He glanced at her through the glass of the shower enclosure.

“Taking a half-dressed shower.”

“What?” He looked down and groaned again, though this time there was a bit of laughter in it.

She chuckled as she approached; it was a light, pleasant sound. Despite that, it still made his head cramp with a dull ache. Her hands beat his to the button-fly on his jeans. The smooth, white fabric that had concealed her body from him lost all properties of propriety once the water touched it. The pulsing in his head lessened as his body responded to her proximity; he humorously assumed it was because all the blood in his body rushed south. Troy leaned against the cold tile wall for balance as her lips moved lithely along his neck and across his collarbone. With the last button, she let go of his jeans, which, soaked through, crashed to the floor of the shower with a splash.

“I think you lost your boxers somewhere,” she muttered against his neck with a smile in her voice.

“No. They’re not lost. I know exactly where they are,” he replied, guiding her mouth to his. He had no idea why he was the only one who seemed to be dealing with a hangover, but it was completely unfair.

His hips responded to the movement of her soft hand, while his fingers battled against the wet satin sash around her waist. His patience wore thin, as evidenced when he growled at the slip of fabric. Before she could untie it herself, he pulled it looser and slid the robe and belt down her legs.

Furia giggled at him, it was cut short but the sharp squeal when he lifted her over his shoulder and tromped out of the bathroom. She laughed the entire length of the short trip from his bathroom to his bed. The laughter gave way to kisses and sighs as his body covered hers.

Troy was caught up—in her, in the moment.

“You do realize I have to meet Johnny in hour,” she said. Her hands pressed at his chest, just hard enough to separate them for a moment.

“Fuck him.”

“I don't think Aisha would appreciate that type of apology.”

He eyed her sideways for a moment. “Is that your way of telling me we can't take our time?

“No. It’s my way of telling you. You'll have to wait.”

She wriggled in protest when his hand slipped between them.

“Aja,” she moaned when his hand thumb plucked at her nipple. His mouth occupied hers as he teased her as voraciously as she had him. “Damn you, Troy,” she muttered as his lips trailed down his neck to her breast.

After a quick sharp nibble that made her gasp, he found her gaze again. “Still have to go?”

Furia unceremoniously flipped him on his back, straddling his hips. Troy refused to give up. His hand slipped between her legs and stroked her softly even as she stretched for the drawer they both wanted her to reach. Her long slender fingers moved with haste. Then her nails dug into his chest as she lowered herself onto him. He leaned up, pulling her lips back to his.

More than a mere pulse of victory thrummed through him as she clearly relinquished her earlier concerns of tardiness. By the time Johnny’s ringtone sang through the room, her body lay limp and liquid in his arms. She tensed up a little. Troy kissed her once more. He knew Johnny well enough to know that he wouldn’t really give two figs about her being late. Though for the hell of it he’d probably still give her hell about it.


End file.
